


A Kiss, Stolen

by Resoan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/pseuds/Resoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The destruction of Haven is a disaster he should have foreseen, but Solas is merely glad the Inquisition, and its Herald, yet survive despite the Elder One’s assault. And despite protests of an apostate tending to the Herald, Solas insists on seeing to her condition after she’s found among the mountain peaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss, Stolen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PridetotheFall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PridetotheFall/gifts).



> Originally written on tumblr for Pridetothefall, who requested 'Stealing a Kiss' as the prompt.

Cullen was gentle with the Herald as he set her down onto the cot, his heavy, fur-lined pauldrons draped over her small frame to keep some of the cold winds at bay; even so, she shivered uncontrollably, and she let out a pained gasp when Cullen’s hand slid completely away from her side. The general grimaced at his misstep, and Cassandra’s frown darkened slightly before Solas lifted his gaze and caught the Seeker’s.

“I will need bandages, and elfroot, and as much hot water as can be spared.” As loathe as Solas was to pull away Cullen’s pauldrons from Velahari’s shaking form, he could not properly assess all the damage she had taken otherwise.

“You’re going to allow this  _apostate_ to look after the Herald? Are you certain this is wise?” Solas pretended not to hear the condescending tone Vivienne used to refer to him, though he did hear Cassandra sigh and murmur that ‘ _Solas has done nothing but aid the Inquisition since before its formation. I will not distrust him now, not when he is as much a friend of the Herald as I am.’_

If Solas were not busy gingerly testing Velahari’s ribs for cracks or bruises, he may have been somewhat surprised to hear the Seeker defend him. Velahari grimaced when his fingers brushed over her right side, where Cullen had previously earned a similar reaction, and Solas knew - there was at least one fracture, maybe more, and even his magic would not be able to completely heal such an internal injury.

Her labored breathing came more easily as magic rippled across her skin and helped to repair some of the damage, and while she’d been semi-conscious when Cullen had first brought her to him, such was no longer the case. Trauma and stress had taken its toll on her, though perhaps it was for the best; a scout appeared a few moments later with bandages and elfroot aplenty, and another came tumbling in after with a bucket of lukewarm water - but it was no matter. Solas could conjure a fire readily enough for his purposes.

It was perhaps two hours later when Solas finally deemed his work finished; a large poultice and several bandages adorned her torso now, hopefully staving off any more internal problems and speeding along the healing. She would be stiff for maybe a week yet to come, but after everything, Solas was merely relieved she would live - though, perhaps  _relieved_  was not quite the correct word.

As he allowed himself an indulgent glance up at her face, he felt his heart settle just a bit lower in his chest: heavy and burdened with feelings he refused to name, refused to let come to the surface. His hand seemed not to heed the warning, however, and he almost jolted when his fingertips brushed her cheek and he was rewarded with the slightest spark of electricity - Velahari’s specialty, so she’d claimed over their numerous hikes in the Hinterlands while aiding refugees.

She was young, so  _very_  young, but wise beyond her years; experienced yet open, both steadfast and compromising. Velahari Lavellan was a walking contradiction, and only when a quiet hum sounded in the back of her throat did Solas retract his hand. Still, even as he moved to leave the tent, something made him pause and look back, and against his better judgment he returned to her side, gaze probing and uncertain, the corners of his eyes crinkling thoughtfully.

Something about her drew his attention, and he could not say when or why he leaned forward, his hand settling on the edge of her cot so as not to disturb her more than he already had. The skin of her forehead tingled under his lips, and though something rational pleaded with him to move away, to leave before she awoke, to keep his impulses in check, his lips continued to her temple, the tip of her nose, and one of her cheeks. 

Despite it all, her lips were warm and soft, and Solas lingered just a moment before he was skirting around the outside of the tent, his heart thudding loudly in his own ears as Varric asked why said appendages were all red. Solas froze for only a second before replying that the mountains were cold, and Varric let the matter settle - even if Solas had been in the comfort of a tent for the past few hours.


End file.
